Notes - budgets / (final) 'The Brothers 3"

         You spent half the morning in bed with an aching lower back, took a pill the spent the next hour listening to Carol explaining your 2012 statements as you received them yesterday within the October 15 extension. – Amorella

         1430 hours. I did listen. I think I have the gist of it. I had told her I wanted to read all the material since I had to pay taxes on IRA’s because I’m 71. I flitted through the pages and pages. Her explanations were much better than what I could decipher. I don’t remember much if any of it presently. Then she went over the Ohio State Teachers’ Retirement papers. I don’t really understand that either but I can accept it. When we began teaching New York, Ohio and California were the top teacher retirement systems in the country. That’s why we pretty much stayed here, but we do not have social security. It is better than social security or was in those days. We are fine with it. Staying with Ohio for retirement purposes was the right way to go then, but I don’t know about now. People today who are starting out have to invest, I would say, at least twenty percent of their income each year to have enough for a good retirement. If we were starting now that’s what we would do, Carol might even have made it twenty-five percent for retirement. This, as it was then, a lifetime of strict budgeting. I don’t think people do much of that any more. We limited ourselves to one child also for two reasons; one the world has too many people; and two, one was all we could afford to give what we considered a good life style. We are satisfied with the way this has worked for us. We still budget out of habit. All those people (our parents and grandparents among them) told us to live within our means; practical home economics is the way we saw and see it. As a kid I can remember seeing the effects of that Depression even into the mid-fifties. I’ll stop now; my memory ends with a few songs from Woody Guthrie and our Jeep trip to California on Route 66 in 1960. We didn’t live in the Great Depression but its reminisce have effected our life’s style nevertheless. (1451)

         You have been waiting for Carol at Kroger’s on Tylersville after a kid’s cups Graeter’s treat after dropping off the local Mason 2012 tax material. Home built meat and cheese sandwiches for lunch. Once home you have the yard work to do that you would have completed this morning. Carol is almost finished with the clothes washing and drying and you have your work. You are home.  Later, dude. Post. - Amorella

        You have a couple of things to put away, but the majority of what you and Carol set out to do outside has been done for the time being. Out to supper? Perhaps. Why don’t you suggest it? – Amorella

         2051 hours. I did ask, surprisingly she suggested Cracker Barrel so that’s what we did. Came home watched the news and a new police comedy, “Brooklyn 99”. It was funny. We’ll watch again next week. Tomorrow we really have to kick in on cleaning the house for family no less.

         2212 hours. I have finished “Brothers 3” in 790 words. It took me several tries. I had to change colors and a couple of brushes in the process.

         At least the ink doesn’t have to dry, old man. Drop it in and post. – Amorella

***

The Brothers 3 ©2013, rho, (final) draft GMG.One

            The following day Richard walked up the steps and down the hall to Robert’s study.

            “This room is like our old club house,” announced Richard as he sat.

            Both laughed, and Robert added, “We were two of six.”

            “While walking Lady, I picked up to wilted flowers on Mom and Dad’s grave this morning. I thought I’d drop them off here before heading home.”

            Robert noted his place the recent Atlantic Monthly and closed it while saying, “Connie knows Memorial Day is coming up. We’ll put some more on.”

            “I still like walking Lady through the cemetery in the morning.”

            “Just like Papa used to do,” smiled Robert. “And, Dad too. I sometimes walk Jack past the mausoleum and down the hill to the river."

            Richie mirrored his brother’s smile, “The stones, trees and mowed grass; it was a kiddy park.”

            “Fun times,” declared Robert thinking, what are we doing today?

            “You know," said Richard, "People still say it's haunted on the west side of the Mausoleum where the old trail leads down to the woods.”

            Robert sighed, “Dad never said, but Mom thought it was haunted too. It was an old story about seeing people walking who weren’t there. I have a poem about it somewhere."

"Published?"

"It was; some years ago in our own Riverton Historical Society Bulletin."

While finger tapping on both arms of the chair Richard commented, "Mom always believed in ghosts but Dad never did."

In a sadder than expected tone, Rob replied, "I don't think Dad ever believed in anything."           

"Not in our lifetime anyway.” Both chuckled. “What are the girls up to?"

"They are getting ready to go shopping."

"Why did I even ask?" moaned Robert.

"I got the car if you want to head over to the book store."

Perked, Rob suggested, "The white one on Worthington-Dublin Road?"

"Why not, we haven't been over there for a while."

"You know I'm looking for an old copy of Ferlinghetti’s "Coney Island of the Mind".

"When Cyndi and I were in Frisco last year we stopped at Ferlinghetti’s City Lights bookstore. They had a republication his classic Coney Island of the Mind."

Robert comment ranked with caustic tone, "I used to have a signed first edition, but I can't find it.”

"Julie probably borrowed it to show her classes. Her favorite Ferlinghetti is "Coney Island of the Mind # 5". It’s my favorite too."

Rob shook his head in dark surprise, "I can't believe Julie has a popular unit on fifties Beat poetry," he paused, "she didn't have to take my signed copy though."

"She’s your daughter. Give her a call. Do you want to go booking or not?"

Robert mumbled, "Old books and poetry are what have long held in common. Let's go." Getting up Rob smiled while watching his brother heading to the door; we have long held those Bleacher girls in common too. It was inevitable that we would marry the sisters – one of those things that was meant to be.

A few minutes later Connie and Cyndi still sat at the kitchen table, drinking tea with an opened House and Garden and a Money magazine underneath.

            "It is hard to believe the boys just turned seventy," whispered Cyndi.

            "We're not far behind."

            "They been going to that used bookstore for at least forty years."

            "Was it ever a church in our lifetime?" asked Connie.

            "I suppose it was. It’s the closest the boys will go to step in a church setting. They always seem to come back with an old book or two."

            "Julie usually borrows their old poetry books to show her classes."

            Connie, whispering for no reason, commented, "Robbie always wanted Julie to go into medicine, to be a surgeon like himself."

            "You wanted her to be a cardiovascular nurse like we were."

            "Julie didn't want to be either," noted Connie. "She always wanted to be a teacher like Richard."

            "Does she still call him Uncle Dickie?" giggled Cyndi, quietly proud of Julie’s choice of careers.

            "That was Robbie's doing." Both laughed. “I used to call him Dickie when we dated.”

            “You were always the cock-teaser," joked Connie; then she abruptly changed the subject, “What kind of countertop do you really want Cyndi?"

            Exasperated, Cyndi snapped, "Richard says he doesn't care. He says that, but he won't like whatever we end up with."

            "They are both stubborn and single-minded. We knew that when we married them. Both burrow within themselves – a linked personality quirk, I suppose."

            “How did we ever decide who was going to marry who?”

            “I think we flipped for it,” said Cyndi. Both laughed independently, one never knew who was going to stop laughing first – one of the small differences between the closest of sisters.

***